


Dreamscape - Excavation

by Valpoet



Series: Dreamscape AU [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dreamscape AU, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Everyone is over 25 years of age, Other, This is for fun and not for seriousness, Yes they're still turtles, please enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpoet/pseuds/Valpoet
Summary: Dungeons and Dragons AU series of oneshots.Mikey, Donnie, Leo, and Raph have been apart for seven years on tasks to find out who they are as individuals. However, when an excavation that's supposed to help Donnie and Mikey find the reason behind Mikey's strengthening and unique powers goes wrong, it's time for the brothers to come back together and remember that while independence is good, it's always good to remember your roots.





	Dreamscape - Excavation

**Author's Note:**

> The link is to the pic of the commission I got from @donikitt on tumblr for helping me design the boys in this AU. Good to check out for going forward as these are the designs that I'm basing this AU off of. Linked to their tumblr specifically.
> 
> https://donitkitt.tumblr.com/post/187520630641/a-design-commission-tbh-this-is-th-first-time
> 
> For reference for those who play Dungeons and Dragons, I've got the classes as follows:
> 
> Mikey: Draconic Sorcerer  
Donnie: Knowledge Cleric  
Leo: Fighter  
Raph: Thief Rogue
> 
> It's not prevalent that you know anything about Dungeons and Dragons to enjoy this fic. I've tried to make it as reader friendly as possible. This fic is also 100% based on a dream that I had - hence the title of the AU series Dreamscape.

_Stz. Stz. Stz. _

“Mikey, can you get this? The matches are too damp. I knew I should have packed them more air tight.”

“Yeah, just hang on. Gotta- _ Urp _.”

_ ** Fwoosh ** _.

Strong light filtered from the edges of the lit torch, illuminating the dank grey and browns and puddles surrounding the two figures. The silver sheen of armour glinted and shone, easily reflecting the area now and tired lavender eyes flitted across a worn reptilian statue that towered over them. Well, they were small by comparison.

Donnie sighed.

“Thanks.” Honestly, as gross as the method was, Don really couldn't deny that it was effective.

Even if there was always a bit of a _smell_ left behind. Like charcoal and old noodles. Not exactly the most pleasurable. Though, for certain, he'd smelt worse. He wasn't going to complain about it. It'd encourage something he didn't necessarily have the energy to deal with right now.

To his left, a flash of the darkest shade of orange and the bright glisten of jagged pointed teeth. Immaculate. Well cared for. About as well cared for as Don's armour. Which was certainly saying something given the immense shine of silver just from the measly torchlight.

“No problem, brosepheles.”

_ Heavy sigh. Shuffle. _

The sound of metal on metal as seventy pounds of armour jostled at once. Mikey couldn't (and wouldn't) hide his cringe – Donnie was used to it by now. Stealth was not their strong suit when it came to tomb and cave exploration. Luckily, typically, these types of dives were almost always completely empty of living threats. So, if all went well, nothing exceptionally creepy would be hanging around and try to kill them later.

“You ever think of, you know, ditching the heavy stuff, Don?”

“Why? It's extra protection.”

“It's noisy as hell.”

“Not getting stabbed in the chest comes at a price. Speed and stealth are what I'm willing to sacrifice to keep my blood _inside_ of my body.”

A roll of the eyes was the typical response from the younger twin, followed by a snort. Don didn't say it, but he swore that he saw smoke coming from his brother's nostrils. Things were getting weirder by the day – but as long as Mikey wasn't burning himself (or anything else for that matter), Don was letting this instance slide. Things were getting a little out of hand and not everything was entirely under control. That's why they were here to begin with, after all.

The tomb was old. Centuries old. Research gave very little indication on exactly _ how old _. It was a miracle in itself that there was any knowledge of it at all. Judging by the sheer amount of moisture and the musty scent of old stone and rotting wood and decades old vegetation that crept through some of the stonework, certainly well over a thousand year architecture. Long since abandoned. The runes on the walls were worn from seeping rain – illegible despite Don's best attempts.

He moved the torch from left to right as he took the lead in the expedition, Mikey, only two steps behind and eagerly looking around the ruins for anything particularly interesting. Sadly, it looked like this particular place had been pillaged of everything valuable a very long time ago. Or, perhaps, it never held anything of value to begin with.

Donnie rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, eyes going from wall to wall. From empty spot to empty spot and being mindful of the sheer amount of puddles that lined the old stone floor.

“Strange. Normally something like this would have more of a-”

“Gaudy touch?”

“-a certain aesthetic, yes. In theory, of course, the reason no one knows the era it's from could be because it was just...simply left barren. It's not exactly _hard_ to get to. Could mean a loss of favour from who he served or that, at the time, it was ridiculously well guarded for a tomb.”

“If that were the case, though, you'd think there'd be more treasures. Aren't dragons kinda known for that?” As if to emphasise the point, Mikey ran a finger along some of the mossy, wet stonework; he shuddered a little.

Don sighed, but gave the faintest indication of a smile – soft and tired, but warm. Not just from the torchlight either. As uncomfortable as these dives were, it was a form of familial bonding that touched him. Even if that was about the only good thing that usually came from these types of excursions. Sometimes there was the added benefit of some rubbings and other artefacts to take back to the Archives, but that dulled in comparison to just these small little moments where Mikey showed that he actually found some of Don's ramblings to be interesting enough to remember. Though, really, that simply could have been Mikey's fascination with dragons in general which had seemed to be growing in the last few years.

Not unlike the smattering of red markings across his shoulders. Scales etched out and a handful of red freckles slowly spreading.

Don tried to ignore the heavy pit that was now settling in the depths of his gut. He was only partially successful. He never really ever stopped worrying. How could he? There were too many questions and hardly any answers.

He chose to answer the question Mikey posed instead. That seemed more manageable than anything else right now.

“Dragons are known for hording, yes. This isn't a dragon tomb, though. Supposedly, it's the tomb of Avarax.” Which really only prompted the next question as the two brothers navigated through a particularly deep puddle that stretched across the stone halls and reached up to their hips; Donnie would have to make sure his armour didn't rust later with some heavy treatment.

“Kay, so, like, I know you know that I was gonna ask for a follow up, Donnie. I dunno who that is.” Mikey's voice was tinged with the barest hint of frustration as they stepped from the water pool.

He wrapped his hands around the edge of his robes and twisted. Near stagnant water squeezed and flowed out, hitting the wet stones in a near torrent. They'd need proper baths when they got home after this – with hopefully some added information for pretty much the whole problem at hand.

Don shook some water from his boots as he handed Mikey the torch, only when that was done did he continue to answer the question.

“There isn't a lot of information on who exactly Avarax was.” Cue usual exaggerated sigh from the younger of the twins; Don flashed Mikey another tired smile which only emphasised the sheer exhaustion that lined his features.

Mikey's eyes flickered briefly and he sighed before mirroring the smile with a wider, toothier grin and bumping up against Donnie gently (so not to scratch himself on the heavy plate armour).

“What do we know then?”

Don looked away, taking the torch back from his brother and pressing onward through the winding and twisting corridors of the dilapidated ancient tomb. He continued – his low voice echoing briefly in the centuries' old halls.

“He was a Champion to one of the Ancient Chromatic Cults. Allegedly, he was a dragonborn. There's tales of him conquering cities in the name of his Lord through rains of acid and fire. Not exactly a _ good _person, but a brilliant warrior. We don't have an exact time period of his life – but there's enough songs and poems of his villainy and bloodshed that it's presumed that he, indeed, did exist.”

Sloshing onwards, the halls began to slope downwards into a heavy and slippery stairwell. Don outstretched his arm carefully and Mikey held on as they began to make their way down.

“So, bad guy who was part of a cult to dragons.”

“Allegedly. If you believe the stories.” Don continued.

“The idea is that looking into the original cults could lead us to figuring out where your abilities come from. Dragons, from what I've read, are incredibly fond of being worshipped.”

“Who _ doesn't _, amirite?” Another incredibly toothy grin from Mikey and this time, Don snorted before he trudged onward and carefully led his twin down the steps that continued into outstretched darkness.

“If this is actually Avarax's tomb, it could have some clues to give us more information on the cults and if we look into the cults, we can further see the relationship between dragons and mortals. Which might help us in figuring out how to help you.”

“I still dunno if I really need the help. I seem to got it mostly under contro-_ hic _.”

Donnie ducked and twisted himself carefully as the flames angrily soared by his head, burning at the top layer of flesh. Again the scent of burnt noodles tinted the air and Mikey sniffed, wiping at his mouth and swallowing down some bile.

“...kay, point taken.”

The older twin gently pat his brother's head and offered yet another tired smile.

“We'll figure it out, alright?”

“...yeah.”

The rest of the trudge was in silence. Mikey kept a gentle grip on his brother's armoured shoulder and forearm as they moved. Every so often now, a faint hiccup escaped him and they'd have to stop and allow him to recover. Sometimes some of Donnie's healing prowess was needed to deal with the burns and sometimes Mikey just needed a few minutes and a snack and all was well.

Even so, Donnie kept his eyes focused on the walls of the tomb when they weren't focused on his brother. The etches in the walls were still too worn and wet to take rubbings that would actively be useful to take back and there were still no artefacts and for such a winding long corridor, there were no added rooms at all. It was puzzling and confusing and made very little sense in the grand scheme of what he _ did know _about dragons and their worshippers. There wasn't even a single trap.

He didn't like this, but they'd come too far to simply turn around and head back and whatever was at the end could very well have been useful in helping _ them _. Which was the main reason he was here to begin with. The rubbings would have just been extra to take back to the Archives.

...

He wished Leo and Raph were here.

This wouldn't have been the first time he thought of such things. The last seven years had been rough since they'd each gone their separate ways. It wasn't the worst decision they'd made, of course. As a whole, it was certainly to some benefit. It gave them time to find out what drove them as individuals. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

But Donnie was tired. He was exhausted. His body ached and groaned and screamed for rest, but he was busy. Always busy. Always learning. Always aspiring. Always writing, reading, recording, sharing, teaching.

He enjoyed it, he did. Though, he supposed part of him was jealous. While his older brothers were out _ finding themselves _, he was here. Not that he particularly hated being here. He didn't hate it. He wasn't sure he hated anything if he was truly honest with himself.

He just felt a little stuck. A little behind. A little trapped. Though it was true that he chose to stay. He chose this. He couldn't fault any of them for wanting to go and search for their true purpose or their true meanings. A lot of their youth had been squandered in constant squabbles and fighting and focusing on others and each other and not themselves.

Again, Donnie did not blame his brothers for wanting to go about in the free world and find themselves and enjoy their solitude. It would have just been nice if they visited once in awhile. Or even sent a letter. Though, Donnie also supposed that perhaps he also could have taken the step to write more. Things like that tended to slip Leo and Raph's mind – surely they weren't enjoying their freedom so much that he'd been abandoned to be tired all on his own now if he wrote that “hey, I'm tired and miss you guys, let's have a beach vacation”.

He sighed, and behind him Mikey hiccuped again. It was only a matter of moments after the flames died down that Donnie had the salve out and was gingerly treating the worst of the burns. Then, again, they continued.

They walked. Footsteps reverberating through the water and the stone in the hall. Echoing. The place was so empty. So barren. The only sign of life having been that it existed in the first place.

Then, finally, after a solid two hours of travelling the tomb's halls, there was a door.

Large and heavy and carved. The carvings were intricate and winding. More detailed than anything else that had lined the walls up until this point. The door was drier than anything up until this point. Still, it didn't look overly complicated to open. 

“Well, I think that’s where we’re supposed to be going.” Mikey said, wiping at his mouth and taking rejuvenated steps forward - Donnie stood in front of him carefully and quickly, stretching out his arm.

“How about we _ don’t _rush into this? We don’t know if it’s trapped.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“There’s ways besides going right up to it and-” Twisting away from Donnie’s arm, Mikey slipped and pushed himself against the heavy stone door.

The carvings he didn’t recognise before suddenly became incredibly clear. Donnie realised quickly and with incredible concern that they were in the likeness of large and winding dragons. The deep grooves and intricate carvings lit up a brilliant, angry shade of red the moment Mikey touched the door. When he shoved forwards, something that should have weighed hundreds of pounds easily swung open. Donnie watched as the red across his brother’s shoulders flared and burned and lit up.

“_ Shit _!” He moved, letting the torch hit the ground; it rolled and hissed and the flames died.

Everything after that was in darkness. The only light was from the dimming red of Mikey’s shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” Donnie asked, low and soft and worried as he held his brother close - only half mindful of armour against the cloth of Mikey’s robes.

“...yeah, I, uh, I think so. What the hell was that?” One presumably meant whatever had gone on with the door - if Donnie were completely honest, he had no idea.

“...looked like magic, maybe. Maybe when you touched it, you activated a trap. How do you feel? You lit up like dancing lights.”

“A little hot, not gonna lie. Hotter than I usually am, anyway, and that’s saying something.” There was a hint of jovial jest in Mikey’s voice - an attempt at levity.

Donnie let him get away with it this time - snorting softly and bumping Mikey’s head very gently. They had to try and keep some things light after a scare like that.

“Well, I lost the torch somewhere. It’s dark as the pits of despair in here.” 

Some shuffling on Mikey’s end, a faint green glow and a quiet muttering of words that Don only barely made out as Draconic. 

Then as quickly as there was darkness, there was light. Mikey gently wrapped his knuckles against Donnie’s steel plate armour and it lit up brightly, shining in all directions - even better than the torch had been in terms of illuminating properties. Only downside, really, was that it didn’t give off heat.

Don pat Mikey’s shoulder.

“Thanks. That solves that problem.”

“Harder to hide if we need to, though.” Mikey muttered, rubbing at his shoulders.

“Buuuut, could be worse?”

“It could have also been better. We should get some rubbings from those doors, maybe, for the Archives, but I’d rather not have either of us touch them again. I’ll just bring back the experience and let them decide what to do with it in the meantime - we don’t know what touching it actually did to you.” Don murmured with another soft sigh, shaking his head a little as he looked around what appeared to be the final room of the tomb.

Large and square and dark. Old sconces clung to the stone walls, almost as good as new. The carvings in this particular room (the only real room) were immaculate. More-so than the door. This room didn't hold the same musky, moist environment that the rest of the tomb had shared up until this point. It was almost as though the test of time didn't fully conquer it.

“Maybe nothing?”

“Or maybe something.” Though giving Mikey another once over didn't wield any immediate evidence that something was wrong, it did raise a few questions.

“This room hasn't been touched in centuries.” Don murmured, keeping his brother close as they moved carefully through the room; Mikey took some charcoal from one of his pouches and reached to snatch some blank scrolls from the bulging bag that clung to Don's back.

Don watched him carefully before turning his gaze to the center of the room where a large, black obsidian sarcophagus lay. He frowned and stood his ground, feet firmly planted.

“...besides the carvings, it looks like all that's here is this.”

“Huh?”

“I don't think this place was robbed, Mikey.” Aforementioned brother stood, stopping entirely the process of gathering rubbings that Don hadn't even bothered starting.

“...big bad black coffin? Seems totally not evil.”

“Stay behind me.” Donnie murmured, arm outstretched not unlike before the door scare (and he was still very worried about that – who knew what _whatever that was_ had done to Mikey. He'd have to examine that door later.)

Mikey didn't argue as he shuffled behind his heavily armoured brother and Don's armour shone forward, bright and keen. Illuminating the black sarcophagus that was covered in runes and markings only a mere ten feet away. Don stepped forwards, eyes fierce and studious as he took it in.

He only understood about an eighth of the runes that he could see – all of them recognisable as well over a thousand years old. Few people he knew were fluent in such tongue and he certainly was not one of them.

“...we're going to get some rubbings of the runes on the coffin.” He told Mikey quietly.  


“Carefully. We don't know if it's trapped, though, like the door, so we're going to investigate very, very carefully. Alright?”

“I think I learned my lesson from the door, Don.”

“I know you've said things like that before, so I'm just being extra clear here. We don't know what's going on. But this place is probably barren for a reason and I'm not liking it.”

Mikey heaved a bit of a sigh behind Don, but didn't argue. Keeping the charcoal and parchment in his hands from earlier, he waited while Donnie investigated the sarcophagus. Which Don was incredibly grateful for by all means. It was one less thing to worry about. And he couldn't see anything wrong with it either.

The sarcophagus was covered in a thick layer of dust. Further proof that no one had disturbed it in centuries. Further proof that no one had been here. Likely no one had ever been past the door. For a place so easy to get to, it was remarkable. Unfathomable. Amazing.

Suspicious.

It was with great hesitation that Don brought his thumb down onto the smooth, expertly carved obsidian casket. Years, centuries, over a thousand years of dust gliding away as he wiped it clear. Easily. He frowned.

No reaction.

He reached and wiped off another layer of dust and then another and another.

Still no reaction.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright, Mikey. Seems safe. Let's get some rubbings now to take back to the Archives. I can't translate these, but maybe Shen can.”

“It kinda looks like Draconic, though.” Mikey murmured quietly, vibrant orange eyes focused on his brother before moving back to the casket – he stepped forwards now, though, charcoal and parchment still in hand before he knelt down.

“It might be an ancient form of it.” Don said with the faintest of nods, working carefully to transcribe the runes.

“But it's not something I can translate. It's so old, some of the words and linguistics have probably changed over time. Getting someone more adept at ancient languages is probably our best bet than a modern translation.”

“...I guess.”

Don hesitated to spare his brother a glance, but did so anyway. Mikey's eyes were focused firmly on the casket – having not yet touched it. Moving, tracing, mouth moving silently as he did his best to translate. Don allowed himself to sigh, catching his brother's attention in the process.

“If you want to try and translate it, go ahead. It certainly couldn't hurt anything, could it?”

Of course, had Donnie known then what he knew now, he never would have caved. He would have simply taken the transcript back and handed over to the Archives for evaluation as he'd planned. Instead, they got chaos.

Which, in all honesty, was probably par for the course in his life. It almost would have been more concerning if things _hadn't_ gone terribly wrong.

The moment the first word of Draconic left Mikey's lips – the moment he brought his hand down onto the dusty sarcophagus, there was a thundering _**CRACK. **_It was deafening and with a cry, Donnie was forced to cover his ears and shut his eyes as a burst of the iciest air blew past him. Ice that layered across his body and froze him down to his core.

He didn't even have time to speak. It happened and then it was over and when he opened his eyes, Mikey was flat out on his back, shaken and with a layer of frost across his robes.

“Y- you alright?”

“Y- yeah. Cold. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Cold.” Glancing back to the sarcophagus though, Donnie felt a hell of a lot colder as he saw that it was cracked entirely in two and there were no contents inside.

Then, he saw a patch of runes that he understood.

**Avarax rises when the dragon calls.**

“Donnie?”

“I think...we just let something really bad out, Mikey.”

“Shit.”

“Shit is right. We need to go. Now.”

If this was as bad as he thought it was, there was no way just the two of them would be able to handle this. If this was as bad as he thought it was, Donnie was going to _have_ to write that letter.

Immediately.


End file.
